'Twas the Skype before Christmas

'Twas the morning of Christmas 5am in London-town, while the flat-mate was sleeping, one diva crept down. The coffee was brewing; the toaster went pop; our Diva sat waiting poised at her lap-top. The package of presents had arrived just before, and diva had piled them onto the floor.

She waited and braced for a marvelous sight, when the screen started flashing and gave her a fright!

She ruffled her hair and straighted her hat, ensuring everything looked just that. And then with the click of her little mouse, all of her family was there, in her house!

'Hi Oma, hi Opa, hi mother and dad, hello brother's girlfriend and hello to you Tad!' Everyone cheered when our heroine smiled and raised up their glasses to toast their dear child!

So its a twist on a classic, but this year's Christmas was as great as it could be. I woke up at 4:30am to celebrate with the family over Skype as they opened presents and enjoyed their Christmas wine. It was almost like being there. We stayed online for the better part of two hours, and laughed like crazy. The only thing that would have made it more perfect was some hugs!
Merry Christmas everyone, and Happy New Year!

PS: My brother is not named Tad, but it had to rhyme with dad, so Tad it is!

A book with a misleading cover

When I'm not entertaining princes or attending diplomatic parties, I spend a little time teaching singing to the youth of London. Recently, the mother of one of my young students approached me, asking if I taught adults as well. 'Of course I do!' I replied, thinking she wanted lessons for herself. Turns out, it was actually her 24 yr old son that was looking to improve his car-singing technique. Great I thought, taking his mobile number from her, and planning to call him later that day.

Over the phone he sounded lovely. A deep voice with a bit of a cockney accent, and he was very enthusiastic. We arranged to meet up the following Saturday, for a "taster" lesson; to talk about his goals and what I could do to help him.

Fast forward to Saturday morning; my new student was set to arrive at 10:30am. I was waiting patiently in the front entrance of the school, when a thug walked in. There he was, standing 6'4", jeans so baggy I'm sure you could fit three of me in them(!) and hanging so low I was concerned I'd see something un-toward. His hat sat jauntily sideways, wide brimmed and bright coloured. He looked at me with a sort of side-ways glance and said : " y'alright?"

Now for those of you who don't know this, "y'alright?" is a standard greeting here in London. Kind of like "Hi, how are you?" Wherein no one actually cares how you are or if you are alright. But that doesn't stop me from replying: " I'm fine thank you, can I help you sir?" (I use sir for fear that this thug might hurt me if I don't show him proper respect)


He replies with a sweet " I'm here to see Janel?"...



This is when I realize that this thug is my newest student! WHAT!?! It can't be! How could someone like this want to sing? But okay, lets see what happens.



I awkwardly invite him into my music studio and ask him some pressing questions about his musical intentions. It turns out that he really loves hip hop and R&B and wants to be able to sing them better. His goal is to be able to rock a tune at a Karaoke bar. He has dabbled in acting and realises that being able to sing would help his professional cause. He is also very interested in developing proper breath support. Hmmmm.


After I explain to him that I come from a classical background and so know very little about R&B, but would do my best to connect my technique with his musical style, we start the lesson. I don't think I have ever been so surprised. The thug was possibly the keenest student I have ever encountered. He approached every exercise with enthusiasm and focus. He didn't shy away from the silly sounds I made him make and he paid careful attention to his breath and posture through out the lesson. It was really amazing. Here I was, afraid of the young man when he walked in, assuming the worst based on his appearance, only to discover that under all that gangster-fashion was a hard-working and committed student who was truly excited about learning to sing. Wow.

Dining with Royalty!

So it was bound to happen. An invitation to dinner at Windsor palace. Of course this inter-continental diva would fit in there; the pomp, the circumstance, the princes! It really is the natural progression for me, so I wasn't surprised when my invitation arrived, though it did come somewhat earlier than I might have expected... Too bad I was serving rather than eating!



As you well may know, it is necessary for a diva to wear many gowns in her career. Sometimes it is the evening gown of the opera stage, sometimes the teacher's frock, and on far too many occasions than I care to admit, I put on my waitress apron and carry canapes for the upper crust. I have worked at all sorts of events, back home in Vancouver, and now here in London, and I've discovered that it is a fabulous way to see some of the sights from an insider's perspective, and to make a little money while I'm at it. So, when the opportunity to serve dinner at the oldest occupied castle in the world arose, I jumped at the chance.



I was booked for the job weeks in advance and had to pass a security check. On the day of the dinner, I had to bring my passport with me along with a proof of address. I was picked up, along with the other excited waiters, at the Hammersmith Apollo Cinema, and two small coaches drove us out to Windsor. Then 50 min drive gave us an opportunity to sign the incredibly binding confidentiality agreement... so don't tell anyone what I'm about to share! (To be honest, I'll have to keep some things tight lipped, but I don't mind spilling a few tidbits about the evening)



When we arrived at the castle, we had to go through 2 more security checks. At the first we were issued passes and had our passports/proof of address checked. At the second, we passed through metal detectors, and our bags went through an x-ray machine, just like airport security. We entered the castle grounds and I was absolutely blown away. I don't know what it is about me, but I am rarely expecting to be impressed at these historical sights, and s am always taken by surprise. The size of the grounds and the ancient walls was impressive and I was particularly thrilled by the juxtaposition of the planes flying into Heathrow that I could see overhead just above the castle turrets.

We were led into the basement of the castle, and to the kitchen/staff areas. It wasn't particularly exciting down there, though the kitchen (one of the many I'm sure) was neat. All lovely copper pots and pans hanging about. When we were all inside, we were briefed: Tonight was Prince William's first charity dinner. He would be in attendance and this is a very big deal! All the management were on high alert. We were split into teams and assigned our duties. I was assigned to my own table, but most importantly, to the table of HRH (His Royal Highness)! Yup. My team was responsible for serving the "top table" and I was to be mere inches away from the young, bachelor, prince! My first thought was obviously that the prince would lay eyes on me, immediately see me for the diva that I am and pluck me from my serving job to sit beside him as his guest for dinner. All these years, my mother was right; "Go to London and meet Prince William, that's all you need to do". Fancy that!



But before HRH could fall madly in love with me, I had to practice how to put food down in front of him, with all the grace and elegance of a 5-star waiter. The serving team clambered up the stairs into St. George's Hall. Wow! now there is a venue! It was grand and opulent and everything you would expect to see at a castle, with suits of armor and decorative shields lining the walls. The tables were all set up and brilliantly decorated. And we started practising. First we practiced how w were going to carry the food in, then how we were going to clear it. We talked about serving bread to the guests, breaking napkins for them, how to address them and what never to say. It was a crash course in fine dining.

And then it was go time! The dinner was amazing beautiful food, beautiful people and lots of wine. The serving staff was run off our feet, making sure every aspect of the food service was flawless. We were well rehearsed and polished, all having passed grooming checks and plate carrying challenges. White gloves and black ties, we looked impeccable, and so did the food. When we served the first course, it was off to HRH's table and the whole team was buzzing with excitement. What would he look like in person? Would he be rude or polite? would he even notice the lowly waiters and waitresses swarming around him making sure his evening was perfect?

Turns out; he looks a lot older in person. He is the same age as I am, but he looked to me to be almost forty, the bald spot on the top of his head not withstanding. He had such deep wrinkles on his face, it made me pity him a bit. He must have a lot of pressures in his life despite his raised status. He was otherwise very polite, though wholly uninterested in the beautiful Diva placing gourmet dishes down in front of him, and, to my complete surprise, he is a very messy eater!

The dinner really was fabulous and after it ended, we cleaned the hall and cleared the tables, returning it to its original splendor. We loaded ourselves into coaches and headed back into London, close to 1am. It was a fantastic night all around, and as I climbed into bed, I thought about how few people would ever have the experience that I had just had. I also help out hope that the glimmer in HRH's eye had something to do with him seeing me, falling madly in love, and he was now sending his footmen out to scourer the city for the beautiful serving girl... a la Cinderella. These thoughts lulled me to sleep.

Imagine my surprise and disappointment when I woke to discover that HRH had called a press conference to announce his long awaited engagement to Kate! I guess I have to go find myself Harry.

Diva has a cold

So today was to be the day I finally had a voice lesson in London. I've been researching and searching and finally found a teacher that a)looked interesting and b) returned my emails. I made a date to see her this afternoon and then spent some time planning what i would sing for her and how I wanted to present myself.
When meeting a new teacher, its kind of like a first date; impressions count and you want to put your best foot forward. You don't want to seem too desperate, and you what to look like you know what your doing. The relationship between singer and teacher is a very special one. A lot of trust is involved. When I sing, I am completely vulnerable and I need to be able to trust that the person hearing me, and guiding me, will make sure that I am comfortable and growing in the proper direction. I want a teacher who is invested in my development and who cares that I improve, but I don't want to feel pressured or put down. Its a delicate thing.

So today I was going to meet up with someone to see if they could be "The One". And I woke up this morning with a cold! My sinuses are plugged and I can't sing to save my life. Not exactly the way to first represent oneself! I called the teacher up, and canceled my lesson. We're going to try and reschedule for next week. This gives me more time to prepare. I just hope we hit it off, so that I can start training again... I'm in dire need of a tune-up!

We Can Work it Out

After two days of successful rehearsals, Thursday found us moving our show into the grand Royal Albert Hall! If you took the time to take the virtual tour from an earlier post, you will have a small idea of what it felt like to walk out on that stage. But the feeling is utterly indescribable. The hall is a massive circle with seats extending up to the ceiling, on all sides of the enormous stage. All 110 of us Maltesers were hit with a sudden appreciation for the magnitude of where we were about to be performing. When you walk onto a stage like that, you can't help but think about all the prolific performers who have tread the boards before you, and the list of performers at the RAH is endless!

So we settled into our seats, behind the orchestra and tucked into a fast-paced run-through of the evening. There was sound-checking, and tempo setting and blend adjustments. All the soloists came back and ran through their pieces in the big room, adjusting to the size of the stage and the lights that they would face etc. And then we were ready for showtime...almost.

The energy in the soprano dressing room was deafening! All the ladies were a-buzz with anticipation and couldn't stop talking about it! It turns out, the Maltese are not a quiet/reserved people... so I fit in well. Everyone was frantically doing their hair and painting their faces with the prettiest make-up they could do. We had to look good for our adoring fans after all.

Before we knew it, we were getting our places call and were herded into our seats. We looked impressive; all in black with gold scarves, the men in black suits and gold ties. We filed into the theatre and faced a nearly packed house. Then the evening's host came out and introduced the President of Malta and the Maltese National anthem, which luckily we didn't sing, because I would've looked a bit stupid mouthing the Maltese words! And then our concert officially began.

The orchestra was magnificent, and I had the best seat in the house. Directly behind the rock band that had been brought in to fill in the rhythm section of the famous Beatles tunes. It was a high energy concert and the audience was loving every minute of it. The first act came to a close with Beverly Knight singing 'We Can Work It Out'. She is a bit of a celebrity over here and so deserved! What a great performer! And the audience definitely appreciated her.

During the interval (intermission for my Canadian friends) I chatted with some of the soloists... particularly the British cowboy who was running around. I couldn't quite wrap my head around someone in proper cowboy boots, Levis and a cowboy hat speaking (and singing) in a British accent. Put I guess its this guy's gimmick, and it seems to be working alright for him.

The interval blew by and we were back on stage for act two. Another set of terrific songs and then it was time for the Diva to take the stage. Even before she walked out, the audience was on its feet cheering and screaming, I'm pretty sure there were some tears as well. Her first note brought more screams and then they let her sing. And sing she did. It was really great to hear!

We finished the concert with a fairly boring rendition of 'All You Need Is Love' but it didn't matter, the audience had been won over, they were hooked. And then it was over. Congratulations were passed around and wine glasses were clinked. We were done. My London debut at the Royal Albert Hall was over, and I climbed onto the night bus, just another face in the crowd and headed home. But I know that I shared the stage with greatness, and one day, it will be me the brings the house down.

An Interloping Malteser

The Beatles go Classical concert was a resounding success! What an amazing night of music and fun. The highlight of the evening being the performance by the incomparable Shirley Bassey, she was absolutely spectacular. But before I go there, let me re-cap the week of rehearsals for you!



Tuesday evening was the first choir rehearsal for me. This choir, dubbed 'The Mediterranean Voices", had been assembled especially for this concert and had been rehearsing in Malta for weeks. The singers auditioned for spots, bought plane tickets and booked hotel rooms for the opportunity to sing at the Royal Albert Hall in this one special concert. They rehearsed for weeks in Malta and perfected their harmonies and dynamics. So Tuesday, in waltzes a Canadian Diva; un-rehearsed, unknown, and, most noticeably, un-Maltese. Yes, it turns out that a tall, fair-skinned blond sticks out in a room full of Maltesers, who are mostly olive-toned and where the average height is 5'5". Not to mention that Malta is not a big island, so everyone pretty much knows everyone else. Nonetheless, I jumped in feet first and quickly proved my worth to the 110 voice choir by knocking my high 'c' solo out of the park. (If you listen to this track, you can hear me at the very end. It also shows you a bit of what the concert was like: www.youtube.com/watch?v=XZLuC6YXtag at 3:35)



This first rehearsal was really just a run through of all the music with the conductor, before putting it together with the orchestra. We touched up a few things and made a couple of last minute changes, then called it a night; the Maltesers had been up since 5am to catch planes and were completely exhausted.



Wednesday found us in the Trinity Hall, the London Philharmonic Orchestra's regular rehearsal space. In there, they crammed 110 singers, the entire orchestra, and about 20 production assistants, personal assistants, sound techs and spectators for an intense rehearsal of all the pieces for Thursday evening's performance. It really is a thrill to be in an orchestral rehearsal. The sound is massive, and watching the musicians work out problem spots and tweek sections reminds me that we all have to work at it to make beautiful music, even the Queen's own! We went through each piece twice. Once, just the conductor and orchestra, the second time we added the choir into the mix. Throughout, Maestro was setting tempi and deciding how he wanted this to sound. Then came the soloists! The organizers of the concert had enlisted several "celebrity" acts to perform in the concert. I use quotation marks because, while apparently these soloists have had hit songs in Britain and are rather well know, I had never heard of any of them before in my life! There was a girl group called Candy Rock, someone formerly of the band Atomic Kitten, someone formerly of the band Blue, Darius something, the runner up in the first ever x-factor competition... you see where I'm going here. So these soloists came and ran through their pieces as well and we were treated to a preview of what Thursday night was going to be like. Some of the acts were terrific, some not so much. Some were still reading the lyrics off sheets of paper, or the more high-tech Kindle, and even then making mistakes. Others were so strong and well prepared, they blew my socks off... and it was only rehearsal. What was clear was that the 'old timers' were going to make the 'kids' look like just that, kids.

And then THE DIVA walked in...

First came her music director, because she didn't want to work with Maestro, so she brought her own. He introduced himself to the orchestra and talked through her piece with them. Following the music director, the lady's personal assistant came in, ensuring that the path was clear and that everything was just as it was expected to be. Then came Dame Shirley Bassey, decked in a brown fur coat and matching fur hat (which I mistook to be her hair) with big sunglasses on her face, and the biggest smile. Now, I must confess; until this moment, I had no clue who Dame Shirley was... never heard of her, but it only took her walking in the room for me to know that I was in the presence of someone special. She was magnetic. Everyone sat up taller and smiled broader and waited for her to open her mouth. And when she did, everyone got chills. This is a woman probably in her 70s, but her voice was solid. It was as if she were still 30 and starting out her career. So much strengthand character, it was a real treat. She sang 'Something', a Beatles hit, ran through it twice, and then glided out just as she had come in. After that, we all knew that Thursday evening's concert was going to be absolutely thrilling!

Gearing up

I have an exciting week to look forward to here and thought I'd give a little preview for you. On Thursday, I will be singing a concert at the Royal Albert Hall, one of London's most distinguished concert halls. Check out www.royalalberthall.com/about/virtual-tour/default.aspx for a tour of the amazing building.
I will be singing with a choir from Malta, as a soprano ringer, and we will be singing Beatles tunes! With the London Philharmonic Orchestra, no big deal or anything! I'm very excited about this concert, as it will be my first performance in London. I'm not soloing (not nearly high profile enough) but I will get to sing in this amazing space with tones of great musicians. I think it will be a thrill. Here is the website for the concert, have a look! http://www.beatlesgoclassical.com/
This week is full of rehearsals and meetings and I get to feel like the Diva that I am... if only for a few days

A story about a Naughty girl named Rosie

After attending the Guards Chapel on Sunday, I was invited to tenor-son's home for lunch with his family. We had a lovely time, eating soup and buns, playing with the babies and challenging each other to name the most cheese we could think of. I was able to name 23.

This whole afternoon, The Smeed was there, climbing all over the grownups, forcing us to play dolls with her and having just a fantastic time. Out of the blue, she takes my hand and whispers, "I have to go to the loo, come with me", To which I replied "Why should I come with you, do you need my help?" (Remember please, she is 4 and I know nothing about the appropriate potty training expectations of a four year old girl, its been a few years since I went through it myself)

She insistently tugged on my arm and led me through the kitchen, past her mommy, and up to the bathroom. I gave her mom a desperate look, mouthed "POTTY" at her, to show her what was happening, and she replied with a sigh and a thank you and sent me on my way.



So there I was, standing in the loo, with The Smeed, who plopped herself on the toilet and said:



"Tell me a story about a naughty girl named Rosie"



I was taken aback. "A story about a naughty girl named Rosie?"



"Yes!" more insistent this time, "A story about a Naughty girl named Rosie!"



Well alright, I guess I can improvise a story... if it will make this experience go by faster, here goes...



"Rosie was a naughty little girl who never did anything her mother asked her. When Mommy wanted her to come into the house, Rosie would run to the garden and hide under a bush..."



"What was scary in the bush?" Pipped The Smeed from her toilet throne



"ummmm, a fox, there was a mean fox who liked to eat little girls! The fox saw Rosie and decided it was almost his dinner time, so he lured her to his lair"



"The fox is going to eat Rosie and feed her to his family!"



"No, you'll see" You see, my plan was to tell a cautionary tale about why little girls should listen to their mothers... but The Smeed would have none of it.



As the story carried on, I noticed that the little girl was taking a poo. (I swear, that information is important) I continued with my story, stopping once halfway through hoping that we were finished and was promptly told that it takes a long time and that I had to continue. The naughty girl named Rosie had more adventures escaping the fox until she was baked into a pie. Now, in my version of the story, she jumped out of the pie still alive, but not The Smeed's, no in hers Rosie was eaten by the fox-hunter who I had sent to rescue her.



When we were finally finished, the little girl looked up at me and said:



"Now you can wipe my bum please"



Ok, so I'm a good sport, and have fun with kids, but this was definitely a new situation for me to be in. I paused, thought about the idea... considered all the possible outcomes and decided to go for it. It wasn't that bad, but again I'm not a mom, so it just doesn't come naturally to me.

Everything said and done, I headed back downstairs and told her mother what had happened. She looked at me, apologetically and said; "so she had to take a poo... sorry about that, but thanks for taking care of it."

Apparently, the story about a Naughty Girl named Rosie is what The Smeed needs to help her get through doing number two. All the grownups know about it and each has taken a turn telling the story. SO now I feel like I've really been initiated into this family.
And I have to say, I've been thinking up new stories every time I go to the loo... for the next time!

Church and Children

So far since arriving in London, I have been talking about finding a church gig. Somewhere I could go to sing weekly, perhaps earn a few pounds, and become part of the community. Today I took my first step towards actually making this a reality. My lovely landlord/flatmate's son is also an opera singer and sings as a regular at the Guards Chapel, just across the street from Buckingham Palace. It is the church for the queen's guard and is very important to the city. The choir is made up of 13 professional singers and is led by Tim Horton. No joke, the conductor's name is Tim Horton. How terrific is that? Apparently he has a collection of coffee mugs which friend have given him over the years from trips to Canada. I love it.
So yesterday, i decided that I should meet Mr. Horton, not just because of his famous name, but more importantly because he may be able to help me find work. I emailed the tenor-son and arranged for him to take me along with him Sunday morning.

Promptly at 9:15 the tenor-son rolled up in his green and white mini, with a surprise guest in tow. His 4 year old daughter, 'The Smeed' as she is so lovingly called, had decided that she wanted to go to church with Daddy this very morning! Dressed in a home-knit 'jumper' and scarf and a little white beret, she looked the part of a perfect little church girl and she was excited to see daddy work.

The drive to the church was a harrowing one, as we raced buses and swerved though traffic to meet our destination. You see, we had to get ourselves a cappuccino, and a baby-ccino for The Smeed before church and this didn't leave us much time. After shooting back the frothy creations from the little Italian coffee bar in Soho, we sped over to the guards, just in time for the beginning of music rehearsals.

Was I ever surprised. What a terrific choir! They were singing several beautiful pieces, including a Mozart Mass in C and a fabulous Ave Maria (though I forget the composer) The harmonies were so tight and each singer sang with their full, operatic voice. No one was forced to mark and the blend was lovely. During the rehearsal, they were accompanied by a lovely organ, but the best was still to come. The band of the Guards! playing from one of the upper choir lofts was a 10 piece band, with timpani, brass and winds. It was glorious to hear during the service.
After rehearsal, I went with the choir for coffee and was introduced to Mr. Horton, a Canadian girl's dream. He was lovely and invited me to come and sing for him in early November. He gave me his number and said for me to call him in a couple of weeks. This gives me some time to prepare myself and plan what I would like to sing. Hopefully, it all goes well and I can start to dep. at the Guards.

The church service was interesting, as I have never had to sit through church being responsible for a 4 year old. The Smeed and I sat in the front pew, so that she could see Daddy, and so that the entire congregation could watch her and her antics, along with my feeble attempts to control her. I wonder if I fooled anyone into think I was her mom? She danced to the hymns and counted the congregation. She waved frantically at daddy and took every book out of the pews... reading them all of course. Impressively, she did this all without making a peep, so at least she had that going for her. I did my best to control the wee one, but having only met her once before, I didn't have much jurisdiction for discipline. I did manage to stop her standing on the church pew, and counted that as one small victory. As I sat there trying to follow the service and control the little rascal, it dawned on me: "I'm not a mom". How ridiculously obvious it is that I am not a mom. A mother would know exactly what to say to make a child sit still, or stop pulling her hair, but I am at a loss. Not saying that i could never be a mother, but I am just clearly not one at this time.

Apparently, she and I did alright, as we got congratulated by the General of the Queen's Guards for her lovely behaviour, and he reminisced about bringing his own young ones to church and having to shush them throughout. Guess we both fooled him!

The daily grind

So, it's been awhile again since my last post, my apologies! I have been deeply entrenched in the London catering scene. It can't all be treble clefs and arpeggios for this wayfaring soprano, sometimes, I have to make some money. I've signed on with a catering staffing agency and have been doing waitressing shifts around town. This past week, I have been working at the 'innocent cafe'. This was a pop-up restaurant, which endeavoured to feed 5000 people their 5 servings of fruits and vegetables in 7 days, for only 5 pounds a meal. I worked there for all 7 days... 10 + hours a day! Innocent Smoothies is a company that makes well, smoothies. They are very into health and wellness and promote healthy diets and lifestyles. The cafe was set up in an old tram shed, essentially an empty warehouse, fitted with wooden picnic tables and decorated with all sorts of plants and flowers. There was a 10 foot wall made entirely out of lettuce! It looked really great, and a live jazz band created a wonderful ambiance. There were 9 servers, running around like crazy serving food to the masses. It was quite the job. My legs are covered in bruises from walking into picnic benches and I lost a solid 10 lbs from eating only vegetarian food and being on my feet 10 hours a day. It's a good diet plan.
And today, is Canadian Thanksgiving! And, since I live with Canadians and have some connections at the Canadian High Commission, I'm have turkey today! Pumpkin pie, pecan pie, turkey, cranberry sauce, the works! I'm so looking forward to it. But first, I'm headed up the road to the Music academy to do a little bit of rehearsing.
Happy Thanksgiving Canada! Love you.

Do you know what an Elk is?

So as I mentioned in my last post, Saturday was my first day of teaching. What fun! Did you know that kids are all the same, no matter where in the world you are? Seriously, all the same. There are the shy ones, the precocious ones, the ones who hate singing and the ones who love Star Trek... wait Star Trek? That's right, I was greeted Saturday morning by a little boy who gave me the Vulcan hand symbol for "Live Long and Prosper". Now, I'm all for nerdy kids, loving crazy things, but isn't he a bit young for Star Trek? I was actually taken aback... I'm too young for the star trek where Spock was popular... I watched it in re-runs. So how did this 7yr old little boy get on to Spock? I blame the parents. Not that I minded much, it was quite cute and funny.
For my first class I had the 7-9yr olds. there were 6 of them. We started by talking about the rules of the class and then about how to stand with good posture when we sing. It was like any other day back at stage coach. Then the questions started coming at me: "Where are you from?" "Are you from America?" I answered each question in stride and refocused the group on singing. that is until one little girl asked me if I knew what an elk was. To this I answered yes, which prompted her to ask me if I'd ever seen an elk. Again I answered yes, and was growing curious about the line of questioning. "Is that because you are from Canada?" was the young girl's next query. I said I figured so and she launched into a story about how she had been to the Rockies in 2006 (baring in mind that she is 8) and that she saw an elk. Then she asked if I'd seen a glacier (pronounced glAh-cier) and once I replied that I had she got very excited about the glacier walk she did when she was in Canada. I assume she meant the Columbian Ice Fields, up by Jasper. It was a very nice bonding moment for us as I was reminded just how amazing a country Canada really is.

The rest of the class went fairly well, with only one little boy scowling with musical hatred, and then it was on to the older children. Aged 10-15 these kids are very talented. Smiles all around, we talked about favourite musicals and songs, and I quickly realized that I need to hone up on my musical knowledge. There is so much happening in the world of musicals here in London that never ever makes it to Vancouver. I am old and out of touch...and foreign. The favourite singers of these children are people I've never even heard of. British stars who never make it across the pond. I'm going to have to go troll the magazine stands for clues as to what is hot in Britain these days!

So, with week one of teaching a success, its onto planning the term. I always hate this part, afraid the kids won't like what I choose for them, or that i will be to simple/hard for them. Its always a bit of a guessing game for me. But I'll sort it out. If all else fails, we'll do a Canadian unit and I'll teach the kids Oh Canada and the Great Saskatchewan Pirate.

Cheerio!

Educating the British

So tomorrow I have my first day as a teacher in the UK! I'm very excited about it and am geared up for the first day.I have my lesson plans done, and my games planned out and I am ready to roll. I've tried to think of all the little 'Canadian-isms' that might sneak into my vocabulary which might cause the children to react. For example; in Canada, we wear pants while Brits wear trousers. No big deal right? Wrong. Brits also wear pants...under their trousers! I wouldn't want to ask the kids to make sure they wear comfortable pants to class! Other ones that might come up are soccer/football, sweater/jumper. I need to be careful. Beyond that, I'm excited to be the new "foreign" teacher. I don't know what to expect from the kids... are they going to be really good? Because, obviously, if you live in London you must be entrenched in musical theatre trivia from birth right? They're going to catch on that I don't know anything about musicals written after Wicked. I think that a field trip to the West End is in order for me! I need to catch up on the current hits and find out who is who on stage today... so that I can talk about it to the kiddies. Best of all, it will be a business expense!

Flat out

So I have officially moved into my new London flat! How exciting is that? After just two weeks of searching and seeing some pretty awful places, I have moved into a lovely Victorian house in Walthamstow. Walthamstow is in the north east of London, at the end of the Victoria tube line. It is in transit zone three and is a perfect little place for me. My flatmate is also the owner of the house, a lovely lady from Canada who works for the High Commission. This is the one whose son is an opera singer, and he came over last night to chat and give me some info about what is going on around here in music. How wonderfully handy! He is a tenor and works fairly regularly and had some good suggestions for church gigs, teachers and the like. So now I've got to act. Things are just about in place so that I can get rolling on the main purpose of my trip; to sing. So here I go!

Free chocolate cake!

So it's Wednesday, and it has been a busy and , dare I say, successful week so far. I'm slowly getting the hang of this crazy city and realizing just how big, and expensive it really is! I've been sending out resumes daily to teaching jobs, catering companies, recruiting firms, you name it. And this week I'm starting to see the fruits of my labour. I have scheduled 4 interviews, one or two per day, with different event staffing companies, and today I signed with my first one. Apparently my resume is fantastic and they were very excited to bring in on board. They even skipped the typical interview and went straight into the new hire paperwork. So I will be doing some work for CIP recruitment, which specializes staffing "Silver Service" events. So basically fine dinning cater-waiter stuff. Every time I hear the term "Silver Service", I want to say "Silver Spoon", as that's pretty much all it boils down to.
Tomorrow, I have an interview with an agency that seems to me to be entirely staffed by Canadians. Every time someone calls me from the office, its another Canadian, so this is good. They are particularly excited about having me come in. Why?, you ask. Well obviously because I've worked as a Skate Marshal before! Yup, who would've thought that my experience working as skate patrol at Robson Square would EVER come in handy? It turns out that this organization runs two major (and I think probably only) skating rinks in London and they are looking for staff. Who knows, maybe I'll have to have my hockey skates shipped to me from Canada!

On top of all of this, probably the best news is that I have found a teaching position. I will be working for LIPA 4:19, which is an academy branch of the main LIPA school. The structure is very similar to that of StageCoach, where I was working in Vancouver, so I should feel right at home. I had a great interview on Monday evening and was offered the position on Tuesday afternoon. Don't worry, I won't be moving to Liverpool just yet, I only have to travel as far as Wanstead... wherever that is!

Tonight I am going to view a flat. I'm excited by this one. It is at the higher end of my budget but still manageable and is a flat that I would share with a woman from Canada who's son just happens to be non other than... an opera singer! With that in mind, I assume she is used to living with singers, and might even have a piano. She is quite a bit older than I but I think this is a good thing. It is in NE London and promises to be fairly large and clean. Here's hoping!

So with all of this progress and good news, I decided I was going to treat myself to a pint of Guinness and a snack at a near by pub. I ordered my food and sat, peacefully enjoying my well earned beer and my little plate of hummus. I was almost done my plate, when I bit into a piece of hard plastic... It had come off the tub that the hummus came out of! (gotta love British cooking!) I politely showed it to the manager of the pub, and she was mortified. So apologetic and said she would talk to the kitchen, and did I want her to get me another plate. Since I was just about finished, I politely declined and she ran off to the kitchen, presumably to chastise the kitchen staff. After about 5 minutes she return to my table, still very apologetic and offered me another drink or maybe a desert pudding. My Canadian attitude of not wanting to put people out kicked in, and I once again declined. She told me that if I changed her mind, I should just let her know. I continued to enjoy my beer, and then it dawned on me... here is someone offering me desert. Something I have been depriving myself of for weeks because I am conserving my money. And I can have it for FREE! I would be stupid to say no.

So I ran up to the bar, and asked if the offer still stood. Since it did I ordered myself a chocolate fudge cake. And out it came, hot and runny. The fantastic top-er to a great day and the perfect celebration for all of my achievements thus far.

Jazz Vespers

So after a week of hunting for jobs and and flats, this Sunday I broke down! I had worked a "discovery shift" at a sushi restaurant on Friday and didn't get the job. Then on Saturday I ran around London looking at flats and didn't find anything that would work for me. So Sunday morning, it hit me... I'm unemployed and homeless and living in a strange city! What have I done!
I decided to give myself the day off. I read my book, napped, and took her easy. Around 3 I decided it was time to go for a walk. I let me feet guide me and I found myself at the British Museum. Admission is free, but I didn't feel like looking at the exhibits, so I just looked at the beautiful building. It is amazing. With a ceiling that reminded me of Hogwarts!
After the museum, I kept up the wandering until it seemed I was the only person on the street. I was in 'the city', London's financial district, closed on Sundays. I turned corner and found myself in front of a humble little Lutheran church. On the sign outside, it read "Jazz Vespers this evening 18:30, jazz choir meets at 17:00, everyone welcome." It was 16:40! I decided I wanted to sing, so I ran to the store up the road and bought myself a quick take-away dinner of a sandwich and some fruit and went back to the church to sing!

the choir consisted of myself and two others. We had a director and a drummer, bassist, pianist and vocal soloist. And good musicians! The director turn out to be a gentleman who is a professor at the Guildhall school of music and also a music educator. The Fantastic soloist just finished her PHD and was a wealth of information about the music scene in London. After the very pleasant service, I chatted with the musicians. It seems the director thinks he might have some teaching work for me. I'll have to email him to find out.

The soloist and I walked together for several blocks and she shared her experience as a young singer in London and gave me tips for finding scores, jobs, flats, you name it! It was great.
I got back to the hostel feeling revived with a whole new energy for my mission. I have new leads and new friends.
It's going to be great!

Drinking like a Diplomat

Yesterday's intermission proved to be very fruitful, and I was nice and rested for my big interview. I had a quick interview and then was out the door and back on the tube in time to do a little browsing at Marks and Spencer before the Maestro showed up.

Time for some background information: "The Maestro" is Alan Chircop, a Maltese conductor who I will be doing a concert with in October. The concert is The Beatles Philharmonic, a tribute to the Beatles with, with The London Philharmonic Orchestra at the Royal Albert Hall... no big thing really. I'm singing in the chorus, as the only non-Maltese singer. It's going to be a riot.


So I was meeting with Maestro for the first time to talk about the project and get to know each other a bit. We had a good meeting and he convinced me to go along to the farewell party of the Maltese Deputy High Commissioner. It was a no-brain-er really! Free Food!!!


I rushed back to my hostel, a new one in fact, and had a quick shower, getting all gussied up for the Diplomats. (If you know anything about my issues with dressing myself, you can imagine how stressed I might have been trying to pick an outfit to wear). After much humming and hawing (which, given the lack of selection in my wardrobe, was unnecessary) I was dress to kill and headed out on the town. I was supposed to meet Maestro at Green Park tube station at around 8:15pm. I got there closer to 8:30pm and then Maestro showed up at 9:30pm. Luckily I had my new mobile, equipped with sudoku puzzles to kill the time.


We were late but headed into the May Fair hotel, past the velvet ropes and paparazzi, and up to the penthouse into a swanky party...that's when we realized that we were at the wrong shin-dig. We knew no on, and Maestro was mistaken for a waiter. Embarrassed, we retreated back into the lift, and asked at the front desk for where our party might be. We found our way to a nice back room where the party of the diplomats was just winding down. There was very little foo left, so we took to the wine instead. I had a wonderful time talking to all the folks at the party, and made some great connections with some fellow musicians. As the party drew to an almost close, The Diplomat decided that he wanted to hear me sing. Why is this Canadian girl singing with my Maltese choir? What makes her so special?

So I sang. For the Diplomats. It was good. I think they are okay with me singing with the Maltesers now! Good thing I worked as a singing waitress, and can whip out a good Porgi Amor when ever asked!

Mid-day intermission

So the job/home hunt continues! Yesterday I got a mobile phone, finally! It wasn't the one I hoped for but it has voice mail and it rings and I'm happy. So yesterday I had the brilliant idea of Applying for work at the West End theatres. There are hundreds of them, and they must all need staff. So I spent the afternoon revamping my resume to be suited for work in a theatre and planned out my walking route.
This morning, I hit The Lyceum, the Royal Opera House, the Apollo, the Prince of Whales and many others. I decided, for nostalgia's sake, to hit up the Palladium as well. When I got there though, I found out that the show was closing in a week and so there would be no jobs until march. Too bad, it would've been nice to say that i worked there after the whole Maria thing.
After the Palladium, I made my way back to Shaftesbury street to continue my search. But there seemed to be line ups everywhere and everyone seemed very excited. And then it occurred to me that maybe the worst time to be dropping off CVs to theatres was Wednesdays in the early afternoon. Why? you wonder. Well because of Wednesday matinees of course! So I have given up my search for a little while and popped into an Internet cafe to send a few online applications and update my blog. at 3pm I have a job interview in a sushi restaurant and then tonight I'm partying with the Deputy High Commissioner of Malta...maybe. I'll tell you all about it if it so happens!

An 'Odd'spicious Start?

Firstly, let me apologize for the lack of posts from Weimar. The Internet connection with my computer was very weak. I tried writing some posts in word processing, but I then could post them to the website. So sadly, Weimar went undocumented. I can tell you that it was a great experience and that I learned a lot. Yes I shed some tears, but also laughed a lot and sang my heart out. I gathered a new understanding of the German market for singers and have discovered that I still have time... at least three years before I'm over the hill.

So on to London! When I left Vancouver, I was gearing up. I was going to be working for Stagecoach (almost certainly) and living, at least temporarily, in Richmond upon the Thames. But alas, this was not to be. Sadly, Stagecoach did not pull through for me. After sending several e-mails to the director answered only by radio silence, I decided I should contact school directly... to no avail. I applied to several and received a response from only one: "Thanks, but no Thanks" Alright, I thought to myself, I will arrive in London jobless. No worries, tons of young folk do it every year. I can deal with that. At least I have somewhere to stay!

I contacted my future-landlord through a website called couchsurfing.org (I highly recommend it for travelers who are looking to meet new and different people and get the insider scoop on where you are visiting) After messaging back and forth a few times, we agreed that I would come stay with her when I first arrived in London and then if we were a good fit, I could rent her spare room. We agreed to stay in touch throughout the summer and she would give me directions when I was closer to arriving. This sounded perfect and I slept well, knowing I would be taken care of. Unfortunately, it seems my host forgot our discussion or something came up in her life because after a few back and forth messages she stopped responding. Initially, I chalked it up to her being busy or traveling, but as September grew ever nearer, I started to get scared. Finally, a few days before my impending arrival in London, I accepted that I wasn't going to hear from her... great. I quickly booked a hostel and hoped for the best.

And so I arrived in London; UN-employed, homeless and ready to take on the world!
Thank God I signed up for SWAP before I left! They are an organization that provides support for young travelers looking to work abroad. Today, Monday, was my first day of "work" or of finding it. I headed to the SWAP ( or BUNAC as we call it here) offices bright and early for orientation and to begin my search. They talked me through how to apply for my NIN (Like a Canadian SIN), how to open a bank account and how to look for work/housing. I decided to devote my afternoon to "British-izing" my CV and set to work. When I showed the staff the fruits of my labour, they were quick to point out that I need a mobile phone. DUH! Well that's easily fixed so a scheduled a little shopping excursion for the end of the day.
My CV mostly complete, I figured now was as good a time as any to apply for my NIN. So, using the payphone at the office, I called them up and proceeded to give them all my information so that I could get my NIN application rolling...but one question stumped me: "What is your telephone number?" ummmmmmmmmm let me call you back! Apparently you can't so anything without a phone around here!
Well, since I couldn't apply for work or a NIN without a phone, the next logical step was to push up my appointment with the shopping mall! I found my way there easily enough, with a brief stop for a snack along the way, and was at the Angel tube station and the Carphone Warehouse, the recommended mobile phone provider. They carry phones from all the networks and great deals. I decided on a phone... a little Nokia for a whopping 3.95pounds! Plus 10pounds top up and it includes 60 free long distance minutes!! Perfect for me. My mobile phone number is: ummmmmmmmm. wish i could tell you, but since they didn't have any of the proper SIM cards in the store, I was out of luck! Yet another roadblock for me! They said I could come back tomorrow at 12 and they would have them for me. So tomorrow I will have a phone and then I can finish my CV and apply for my NIN and maybe,just maybe, start looking for work.

I did accomplish one thing though: I bought an Oyster card for the transit system here. Too bad the tube is on strike!!

One Week to Go

All the planning and packing and stressing is about to come to fruition! My adventure starts in exactly one week. It's hard to believe that only three months ago I was considering abandoning the music career all together, and now I will be moving halfway across the globe to make my career a reality. Lucky me! I almost have a home lined up in London, though So much can happen in a months time, so who knows if it will work out? Here's the plan for the rest of the summer:
July 15th, The boy and I are driving to Calgary to see family, with a sort stop-over in Penticton to see my oma and opa.
After a week and a half in Cochrane/Calgary I jump on a plane for Weimar, Germany. A friend of mine has connected me with a place to stay in Weimar. Joachim and Patricia are (supposedly) a lovely couple who will be hosting me for a couple of nights before the program begins. I excited to meet them and perhaps enjoy my first authentic German meal!
The program at the Lyric Opera Studio is 3 1/2 weeks long, after which the boy will be joining me in Germany for a bit of a tour before I head to London to start my new life.

This summer is filled with so many changes. I'm so ready to take on the world and find out what I can do!

Wish me luck

A new chapter

Hello friends!
Today I created a blog, for you, to track my journey over the next two years. I'm a young singer and I'm off to London, England to find out what possibilities and opportunities await me there!
I'm going to try and update this blog weekly so that we can stay in touch and you can follow my adventure. Hopefully every post will be filled with exciting new updates, but I don't know what will happen to me once I get across the pond. I'll keep you posted!